


Revelations from a Winn Dixie Bathroom

by stunningepiphanies



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jesse Custer goes down like a champ, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7715401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stunningepiphanies/pseuds/stunningepiphanies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two little lines on all of them. Two little lines telling her what she thinks she’s suspected for  while but never wanted to admit to herself.</p>
<p>Pregnant. Friggin’ pregnant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revelations from a Winn Dixie Bathroom

It all happens very suddenly, like these things usually do. It's five in the morning, no cars on the highway save theirs. Quiet. 

“Jesse, pull over,” Tulip barks out of nowhere, punching her boyfriend in the arm. They’re somewhere in the middle of Mississippi, making their way across the south and knocking over banks as they go. So far the pickings have been slim, and all they got from the last job was a cool seven grand and some old-ass pearls from some old lady’s deposit box. Turns out, there ain’t much in Buttfuck, Alabama but bad security and crumbling plantations.

Jesse doesn’t make a move to pull the Jeep over, but he gives Tulip a long, sideways look. “Look, if you need to pee _again_ , we’re gonna come up on a Waffle House pretty soon. I ain’t gonna stop on-”

“Jesse Custer, I swear to _god_ if you don’t friggin’ pull over _right now_ you’re gonna regret it!” Jesse risks turning full around to face his girlfriend in the backseat. He’s unpleasantly surprised to find her looking both green around the gills and mad enough to spit fire, so he wisely relents and pulls on to the shoulder. Carlos is still passed the fuck out next to him in the front, and the rumble strip does nothing to wake him from whatever coma he’s got himself into. _Good,_ Jesse thinks idly while Tulip dives out the backseat and into the tall grass, _that’s less bitchin’ from someone, at least._

The gentle strains of Tulip losing last night’s dinner waft through the open back door, though it sounds more like a dying pittbull than the tiny little thing she is. He’s never heard those noises come out of her or any other human before, and after a solid minute he starts getting worried. There’s no cars coming up behind them- he checks three times, because what good is he if he’s goddamn roadkill- so he climbs out the driver’s seat to the steep slope of grass where his woman is hacking up all her organs, he assumes. Jesse finds her curled in on herself, arms clutching at her stomach like a lifeline. Strings of yellow saliva and last night’s dinner have already made a mess of her hair, and her shoes ain't gotten away with much better. “Shit, babe,” he mutters, tentatively reaching out one hand to stroke her back. “You okay?” 

_Well. That could’ve been phrased better._

Tulip whips around, shame and hellfire in her eyes. “What the hell does it look like, asshole?” She’s got the shakes, like you do when you get a life changing hangover and everything turns to shit. But none of them had more than one beer last night, and she’s not any kinda lightweight. They both know that. 

The fire dims in her eyes after a few moments of trying to burn a hole in Jesse’s head, and she turns back down to the mess at her feet. He gives her back an experimental rub, and thank _god_ , she leans into it. It doesn’t feel right to see Tulip look like this, he thinks. She’s all piss and vinegar and dark lipstick, and nothing about her has ever been weak and vulnerable like this. 

A few more minutes pass while the two just stand there, Jesse rubbing and Tulip taking deep, gasping breaths of clean air, desperate to get her feet back from under her. Somewhere behind them, Carlos stirs in the Jeep, but Jesse could give half a shit. Finally, blessedly, Tulip seems to overcome whatever the fuck possessed her in the first place. She straightens, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. It leaves a slash of dark red lipstick on her skin, and Jesse pretends to not notice how much it looks like fresh blood. “Hey, Jesse?” Her voice shakes like a newborn baby deer, but both of them dutifully ignore it. “Can you get me my flip flops and a shirt from the back?" 

"Yeah, sure.” He presses a kiss to Tulip’s sweaty forehead, and smoothes back her hair. All that, and she's still the most beautiful woman in the world. Imagine that. 

"Hey lovebirds, what the hell you two doing?” Jesse turns to find Carlos mostly awake now, hanging half out the open window and waving them down like he’s not goddam ten feet away. 

“Tulip’s pukin’! But she’s okay now, I think! You're okay, right?” Jesse looks back at Tulip for confirmation, and he’s greeted with a withering glare. “Yeah, she’s okay!” 

"Shit, man,” he mutters, squinting out into the bright morning daylight to get a better look. “I told you those tacos were bad.” 

————— 

“Oh, fuck me baby. Oh please, oh _yessssssssss_!" 

Jesse grins wide into Tulip’s cunt, relishes the sting of her sharp nails digging into his scalp while he draws out all kinda nasty things out of her mouth. Those noises, _lord_ , he could come on them alone. The memory of them gets him through long, lonely nights when they’ve gotta go separate ways to escape the cops, and more than once he’s had to double up on shower time because she got him over the edge too quick with those moans. As it is, he’s already painfully hard in his jeans, and really, it wouldn’t take much more to ruin them. Not with the sweet taste of her under his tongue and the pure fucking sin pouring out of her mouth. 

But that ain’t fun for no one, is it? 

By the way her thighs squeeze around his head like a bear trap, Jesse can tell he’s getting her close. He doubles down, sucks on her clit like it’s candy and slips one, two fingers into her core. That sweet spot is easy to find, second nature after all this time. Tulip swears a blue streak into freezing motel air, fit to make a Marine call his mother and apologize. Fingers dig deeper into his hair, yank at it by the roots, and he know’s he’s got her cornered. 

“That’s it, baby,” he snarls around her clit, “wanna hear you scream for me. Come _on_.” 

Though she’s far gone, Tulip doesn’t take well to his demands. “Shut th- _oh shit_ \- the fuck up, Cust- _fffffuuuuuck_!” She yanks at his hair again, guiding him back to where she desperately needs him. She’s on the edge, it’s so _close_ now, if he would only just shut _up_ and let his mouth do something other than talk shit. 

One more well placed stroke of his long fingers, and it’s all over but the crying. Tulip yells out, and neither her or Jesse could probably tell you exactly what it was. Something vulgar, probably, but affectionate and reverent only in the way she can make it. She rides out her orgasm on his fingers and tongue, little aftershocks zipping through her limbs deliciously and making her ache for _just one more_. When he finally pulls away she sinks back into the mattress bonelessly, looking fucked half to death and happy for it. “Holy shit,” she breathes, releasing her death grip on Jesse’s mullet. “I don't… I dunno if I can take another one of those. It might kill me.” 

That just won’t do. “Oh, no, don't you _dare_ tap out on me O’Hare.” Jesse scowls, face a wet mess with her enthusiasm. The look he's got her pinned down with sends a shiver down her spine, and brings to mind lions staring down their prey. It's fucking wonderful. 

He leaves her little biting bruises on the way up, on her thighs, her soft stomach, her ribs. He loves it, loves to see the little marks on her that make her his. She's got him branded permanently right there on his shoulder, so the least she can do is allow him his own temporary tattoos. And because of this, he thinks nothing of sinking his teeth into one of those beautiful tits when he _finally_ gets all the way up there. 

"SHIT!” 

Tulip yelps in pain and surprise, and on instinct alone she slaps him upside the head like he's some kinda oversized mosquito. Jesse, bless him, is just hopelessly confused. He rubs at his head, frowning. “What’d I do?” No longer the lion on the prowl, he looks more like a kid who just lost his ice cream cone to the pavement. “I didn't get you hard. C’mon." 

Not one to be deterred, she shoves his body the rest of the way off her and pushes herself up against the padded headboard. She makes a show of checking herself for broken skin, but her face falls when she finds nothing but a little red mark from his teeth. “Jesus,” she mutters, confused. “They're sore as hell.” 

Jesse, at least, has the sense to look a little shamefaced. Horny, yeah, but shamefaced. It's a feat. “I'm sorry, I didn't…sorry.” He sits up next to her, and tries very hard to look like the concerned boyfriend and not like a very disappointed man with a hard on that needs immediate attention. “You, uh. You think it's PMS, or somethin’?” Or somethin’, because as long as Tulip’s know Jesse, he's always danced around the idea that a place he loves visiting so often is a total goddamn warzone a few days a month. 

“Shouldn’t be,” she says, chewing at her bottom lip. "That should be next w- 

_Wait._

Tulip sits up, straight a board, and stares off into the distance. There's panic written all over her face, and Jesse can only see that the cogs in her brain are working overtime. Doesn't mean he's any less confused, though. “Tulip,” he says gently, reaching out for her shoulder, “you doin’ okay?" 

His hand grabs air, because she's darting out of bed and throwing on clothes as fast as she possibly can. As far as he can tell, she doesn't even pay attention to who’s clothes they are. Her panties from three days ago, his button-down, mystery jeans they think might be Carlos' but fit them both. Jesse rolls out of bed to follow her, but finds himself slowed down by his still very much neglected dick. He watches her tearr around the room with mounting annoyance, and almost protests when she stuffs a stack of bills into her purse. Tulip catches his face out the corner of her eye, and pauses just for a second. 

"Remembered something I gotta do,” she breathes, pressing a kiss Jesse’s prickly cheek. “I’ll blow you when I get back.” 

Then she's out the door in a tornado of noise and panic, and doesn't even hear him mutter, dejected, “Don't want a goddamn blow job, though.” 

————— 

Tulip buys every goddamn pregnancy test the Winn-Dixie has to offer, cash. The pimply-faced little shit at the register gives her a sly look, and she has half a mind to beat his ass until the little boxes in her arms bring her back down to relative sanity. She pisses on one after another in the bathroom by the frozen chicken, her stomach sinking lower and lower with each successive test. Two little lines on all of them. Two little lines telling her what she thinks she’s suspected for while but never wanted to admit to herself. 

_Pregnant. Friggin’ pregnant._

They both were always so careful. She took her pills, and Jesse always wore a condom when it mattered. So maybe she let him come in her ass sometimes, okay, but there’s no way she could’ve gotten knocked up from that. There’s no failure that she can remember, no night he went in raw while she happened to forget her pill. It’s just a shitstorm of bad luck. It shouldn’t have happened, and yet... 

They’ve never broached this subject, not in any sense. Tulip always just figured it went without saying. She and Jesse just weren’t fit to be anyone’s parents, not fit to be anyone’s family but each other’s. Any little baby of theirs would only have a couple of drifter criminals for a mama and daddy, and no one else in the world but an alcoholic great uncle and…..well. Jesse ain’t got no family. Not in the way that matters. She’s got no idea how Jesse would react to this news. He’s never made any noise about being a parent, or even liking kids much. She does, always has, but beyond making faces at babies in the Wal-Mart, he ain’t never seemed to have any kind of paternal instinct. Would he yell? Would he go all quiet like he does sometimes, shut it all out while he goes off to wherever he goes in his brain? Would he be _happy_ , spin her around until she barfed all over the plasticy floral bedspread of their motel room? 

At least she knows one thing: he won’t leave her. 

Tulip lets herself have a good, long cry in the Winn-Dixie ladies room, panties still around her ankles and pink boxes littering the floor. Once she’s pretty sure she’s got all the tears out, she pukes, cleans herself up, and wipes her face down with paper towels so she doesn’t look so red and splotchy. She even adds a slash of red lipstick to her lips, to give her confidence a little kick.They don’t help, but the cool water and wax soothe something deep inside her. She’s got the love of a good man, right? That’s all she needs. They can work through it. 

But it still feels real good to punch the shitty little asshole up front when she leaves the store. 

————— 

Tulip presents the handful of pregnancy tests to Jesse like it's the world’s worst bouquet. 

“Tulip, why d’you got blood on your shirt?” 

“I punched a kid,” she says, exasperated. “Look at these, _please_.” She pushes the little bundle of white sticks under his nose, waving them like they’re supposed to be tempting or something. 

After a moment of confused silence, Jesse takes the handful of plastic from her. “What are these,” he says idly, pulling one of the tests out at random, “thermometers or somth….” The words disappear from his mouth, fading into the air with his cigarette smoke. It's that blue little plus sign that does it, shuts him the fuck up. Jesse drops it in favor of the second, then third, and so on until his hands are empty and he’s staring down at the floor in shock. 

“So all these are-?” 

“Yep.” 

“And so that means you-” 

“Uh huh.” 

“And now we’re gonna-" 

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

“Well, hell.” Jesse sags onto the bed like slowly deflating balloon, and Tulip’s sure she can almost hear the high pitched whining to go along with it. And really, he _is_ trying to not make all kinds of distressed noises, but he’s got his dignity to keep in mind right now. 

“I don't…..I won't keep it, if that's what you want.” Tulip sinks down next to him, curls around him because Lord, she needs him more than anything right now. She breathes him in in slow gulps, her frenzied heartbeat slowing with each passing moment. She can do this. _She can do this_. “I already looked up clinics, okay, and we’d need to go outta state, but I don't think I'm anywhere near the cutoff date and-” 

The babble is cut off abruptly by Jesse’s lips, and idly her mind registers one of his big, rough hands on her belly. Tulip ain't sure she's ever felt Jesse be this gentle before, not since they were just little kids anyways. He pulls away slowly, expression unreadable but soft. He looks ten again, full of confusion but no bitterness for the world and how nasty it can be. And for a second, she forgets too. 

“I think…..we’re gonna be parents, aren't we?" 

“Shit. Yeah. Yeah, we are.” 


End file.
